


i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything

by goodbyechunkylemonmilk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Canon Queer Character of Color, Codependency, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyechunkylemonmilk/pseuds/goodbyechunkylemonmilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Subtitle: Jackson, a newspaper with eyeholes cut out is not a suitable disguise)</p><p>Jackson's fear of abandonment getting in the way of Danny's first relationship isn't surprising in any way, shape, or form, but that doesn't mean Danny's fine with being followed around while he tries to go on dates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately prior to season 1. Title from Richard Siken's _The Torn-Up Road_.

The thing about living in Beacon Hills is that there are like, three out gay kids, of which Danny is one. Another's a really precocious ten-year-old. So there aren't many opportunities for camaraderie, is the point, and even fewer for dating (the third is a senior and a lesbian). He starts going to the club a few miles outside of town as soon as he has the skills and equipment necessary to make fake IDs, and that's how he meets Alex, a Beacon Hills junior who isn't exactly out but isn't in either. He makes the leap when they get together and it's the first time Danny's felt like something other than someone's identity crisis. It lasts for about a month before Alex pulls him aside after school and snaps, “I'm not going to compete with your closet-case of a best friend,” and somehow that's it.

Danny skips lacrosse and goes home. He's not in top form right now and knows he wouldn't be able to play around the sick feeling in his gut and he _refuses_ to be yelled at by his best-friend-turned-team-captain, especially when this is Jackson's goddamn fault in the first place. It doesn't occur to him until he's in his room to warn his parents not to let Jackson in if he shows up, but he would never skip practice, so it should be all right. That gives him a couple hours to pull himself together and rectify his mistake.

“Hey, asswipe.” Jackson stomps into the room without knocking and throws his bag onto the bed. “You're not at practice.”

“Neither're you,” Danny mumbles into his pillow.

“Yeah, because of you. Coach wanted me to find out if you were all right.” Jackson isn't a very good liar, so when he manages to say that with a remarkable degree of sincerity, Danny figures it's true for some value of the word. He's sure Coach asked about it, but there's no way Jackson's here on his orders. It's kind of funny, he thinks, how clear it is Jackson hasn't thought this through. Tomorrow they'll be running suicides together for skipping practice and the lie will be revealed. “He's really mad.” That, no doubt, is legitimately true.

“Whatever. It's one practice. And it's pre-season. I don't give a shit.”

“You never skip though. I'm pretty sure _I've_ skipped more than you have.”

“I don't think your aunt's funeral counts as skipping.”

“You and Coach are on completely different pages then.” Jackson, apparently having thought better of standing, throws himself onto the bed with his equipment, then nudges Danny's leg like he sincerely expects him to move. Danny, to his own disgust, makes room after only the second tap. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just felt sick. Sorry, I knew I had to make my excuses to Coach; do I really have to make them to you too?”

“Well, I _am_ captain. But like I said, he asked me. Is it something with Alex? I saw you guys talking today and he didn't look happy. Then you ran off when I tried to ask about it.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Dude, lift your head. I feel like you're having a conversation with the fucking pillow.”

“No.” He really doesn't want to meet Jackson's eyes right now, especially since he's been on the verge of tears ever since he got home. “Just leave. You found out why I'm skipping and now you can report back.” He can't keep the sarcasm out of his voice when he says that, as if Jackson actually has anyone to report back to.

“It was Alex, wasn't it? God, I'm gonna fucking kill him. What'd he do? Did he cheat on you?”

“I don't need you to defend me.” Which is not what he's meant to say, and he knows it. He should be saying that Alex has done nothing wrong and defusing the situation straight-off, but somehow that's what comes out.

“I know that. I'm just saying I'm down for it if you are. I never liked him.”

“Good news, apparently the feeling was mutual.”

“What? Bullshit! I'm charming as hell. Wait.” Danny tends to think of Jackson as a little oblivious and a lot self-absorbed, but of course he's gone and dangled hints in front of him. “Did this have something to do with me?”

“Not everything is about you, Jackson.”

“In my experience, that's not true.”

“God, you're an idiot.” He finally feels under control enough to lift his head and sit up and regrets it immediately because Jackson surveys him, eyes narrowed.

“You've been crying.”

“So? You cry all the time.” He does not add, because he is a good friend despite the circumstances, that Jackson cries for reasons that are objectively less legitimate. 

“First of all, fuck you, slander, and second, he dumped you, didn't he?” It doesn't escape Danny's notice that Jackson's picked the harshest of the options, has declared that he was dumped, that he is the kind of person who gets dumped (Jackson is not), but he says it without a sneer or particular inflection, so he can't be too upset.

Danny makes a face. “I was going to say broke up with, but fine, yeah. He dumped me.”

“Because of me.”

“Yes, because of you. He was jealous. Toward the end I was telling him like, three times a day that nothing's going on between us, but he never believed me.”

“Probably because he knows anyone with a brain would be tapping this if they had the chance.”

“Or maybe because you were a _clingy freak_ for the entirety of our relationship. You showed up on two of our dates.”

“Hey. The first was an accident.”

"Assuming that's true, which it completely isn't, that's still one more date than normal friends show up on."

"The other time, I mentioned the restaurant you were talking about to Lydia and she wanted to go. Still not my fault."

"Bullshit. Lydia hates French food. Jesus, you're a bad liar and a worse boyfriend."

"Or maybe you're just too into my girlfriend. If I didn't know you were gay, I'd be very suspicious. Still sort of am, actually, since you're claiming I'm not your type. You can't be into guys but not into me; it doesn't make sense."

"Oh my god, you really are a douche. Can you at least pretend to be a little bit sorry?"

"If he couldn't take a bit of not-even-competition, he wasn't worth it." There's something really frustrating about Jackson having a point considering the role he played in ending the relationship, but Alex was uncomfortably possessive, convinced even before Jackson interfered that something suspect was going on, but—

"I _liked_ him. You shouldn't have fucking— It wasn't your business."

"Am I not your best friend? Am I not allowed to be concerned?" Jackson tries for an innocent look that has not ever been effective, but which he continues to pull out at the slightest provocation.

"Oh, bullshit. You weren't concerned; you were jealous."

"Dude, maybe you missed this, but I'm straight."

"Yeah, but you only have one friend, and that's me. I don't think it's a coincidence that the first time you showed up it was after I canceled plans with you."

"Well, it's not— I'm not saying that's why, 'cause it's not, but you're always calling me a douche even though that was kind of a douche move on _your_ part, wasn't it?"

"Like you've never blown me off for Lydia before."

"Not like that. Once or twice, maybe, but not like you did. Again, irrelevant, but you were always with him. Everything we planned fell through. You used to stay at my house for lacrosse practice every Friday but you haven't even done that since you two—"

"We've been friends since kindergarten. Did you really think a month-long relationship was a threat to that?" Jackson frowns; after all these years Danny still can't distinguish between his angry face and his about-to-cry face, and is currently considering the possibility that they're exactly the same. He shouldn't be surprised but he is, even though it's obvious in retrospect that Jackson would interpret the honeymoon phase of a relationship as abandonment, then turn to sabotage instead of communication. "Jackson..."

"Fuck you," he snaps.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have— That was shitty. Usually you're the asshole, but right now it's me. I mean, still totally you because following people around is just. Not okay. And because it's never not you. But I'm willing to accept like, ninety, ninety-five percent of the blame.” He pauses, thinks it over. “Sixty. Don't do that again. I was maybe a little overexcited to be talking to someone who gets what it's like to be gay in this town and at this school, and I won't apologize for that, but I could have been more conscious of how I divided my time. You're my best friend and no one's changing that. So. I'm sorry. Okay?"

"It's not like it matters. I said that wasn't why." Jackson tries to fight a smile, pressing one hand to his mouth like he can wipe it away. "What'm I, a fucking girl? I don't care. It was just hypocritical, that's all." Danny thinks he should probably tell Jackson someday that he's a horrible liar, that he wears hurt on his face clear as anything, and relief just as strong.

"Right. Of course you don't. I just thought I should apologize. Though for the record, if I see you on one of my dates ever again, I'll tell everyone about how you had me pretend to be Lydia so you could practice asking her out. Or how you cried when you thought you weren't going to make first line last year. Or. Yeah, you might just not want to test me on this.”

"Fuck you," Jackson says, with less vitriol this time. Not _no_ vitriol, of course, because it's Jackson, but a level that's closer to normal.

"Speaking of first line, Coach is going to be pissed tomorrow." It's the kind of thing Danny will stress about later, but right now he can't summon the energy to care, though he knows Jackson will.

"We could still make the second half of practice if we hurry." Jackson stands, one hand already on his bag.

Danny rolls his eyes. "I'm not going. I got dumped today, not exactly in the mood. You're welcome to though."

Jackson's eyes dart to the door, then back to Danny. He pauses for a long moment, mouth slightly open, then sits back down, directly on Danny's calf, for which he doesn't apologize. "Naw, I think I'll stay. There's no real reason to go at this point. Like you said, it's pre-season. Who cares, right?" The obvious answer, of course, is that Coach cares, and that Jackson cares even more, but Danny doesn't volunteer it. Jackson sprawls out, digging one sharp elbow into Danny's side. "Can you believe McCall's going out for first line again? Should be good for a laugh, right?"


End file.
